Garage Tension
by CornCob
Summary: Cid stumbles into a less than valid predicament, and requires Vincent's help. Rated M for Cid's dirty thoughts.


Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII or its characters, Cid's mysterious car, or anything else I may have mentioned. My dad used to start his car with a screwdriver when he lost the keys, so I don't even own that idea. XD

A/N: I wrote this for Misumisu84, about a year ago, and I just never did anything with it, as far as posting. I ran into it on the computer today, and I figured I'd throw it up here! This is my first/only attempt at Cid/Vin, really, so hopefully it went well! Sadly, there is no sex in it, just mentions of Cid's filthy mind.

***

Vincent observed his surroundings, taking in the cluttered disaster zone in moderate disapproval. Had he not always secretly suspected that Cid was a pack-rat, he may have actually been surprised that the older blond's workshop was such a hellhole. Still, for someone who always preached about running a tight ship, he sure did let his own shop go right to shit.

"When you requested my help, I certainly hope you didn't mean straightening up."

Cid stopped trying to unlatch one of the high cabinets for a moment, looking over his shoulder to give Vincent a sour face.

"I dint call yer ass in here to move my stuff around. I'd never find nothin if you started rearrangin', so don't even think about it."

The slender male rolled his crimson eyes, ignoring Cid's response. He had taken it upon himself to straighten up Cid's silverware drawer once, and that had ended horribly. He still caught shit when Cid opened his drawer can grabbed the wrong utensil. That had been the first night that Vincent had moved in with the Captain, and it had been the last time he'd offered "help" without being asked. It just wasn't worth the bitch fit he'd have to hear later.  
Vincent snapped to attention when a large black sheet was dangled in front of his face, and he looked up to see Cid giving him a wide smile.  
"You may want to put this on. It's grimy down there."

One red eye widened slightly as a delicate dark eyebrow rose in question.  
"…Down where, exactly?"

The way Cid smiled at him, and the way those blue eyes cut over the side nervously had Vincent's stomach twisting. He told himself it was because he was worried about whatever Cid was going to ask him to do, and not because the gruffly man looked irresistibly _cute_.  
"This way, mah'lady."

The petite man resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and followed Cid over to the edge of the workshop, tying the rubber apron around his neck and waist as he did so. He was led to a dilapidated vehicle that Vincent had never known the man to possess. The old car was parked in a bizarre fashion, right up against the wall, so that there was barely an inch between the driver's side, and even less space between the wall and the front bumper. It looked like Cid had been playing Tetris when he parked it. He looked to Cid for an explanation. What was he supposed to do with it? Dust it? That's what it needed.

"I need to move it."  
Vincent nearly walked out of the shop at the man's words.  
"I told you, Cid. I will never use Chaos to move your yard trash just to you can get out of calling a tow company, you cheap bastard."  
Truth be told, Vincent had done just that on more than one occasion, and it always ended the same way. Some neighbor always called the cops, and Chaos always managed to drop the some three-ton object onto Cid's house. The demon really caused more problems that he solved.

"No, I _was_ going to drive it out. But I dropped the goddamn key under the car, and I'm too broad to reach it. Was needin' someone a little more…little. Figured yer perfect."  
Vincent eyed the man in front of him for some amount of time. Just within a vicinity of four feet, Vincent could find seven different objects that Cid could have used to reach under the car. If Vincent had learned one thing from living with Cid, however, it was that it didn't matter what logic told you, Cid was always right, and it was easier to let the man have his way.

Sighing, Vincent shook his head and turned to the car.  
"Fine. But I don't want to talk to you for the rest of the day."  
Vincent thought he caught the slightest sign of a smirk before he'd turned away, but he shook away the thought. Cid was always smiling about _something._ He had brought it up with Cloud and Tifa on more that one occasion, though the other pair hadn't noticed any such habit in the blond. Tifa had joked that "Maybe you just make him smile, Vincent."

Dropping to his knees, Vincent pushed the words of his friends out of his mind, finding no time to entertain such ideas. The blond captain was more than attractive enough to have his pick of partners, and he had serious doubts that Cid would have designs on _him,_ of all people.

Cid, however, was under an entirely different impression as he watched Vincent Valentine's palms go to the floor, before the dark, messy head of hair dropped low to the ground. He heard Vincent give a slight hum, signaling that he had located the elusive key. The pilot watched on as the gunman slid his upper half beneath the car, ignoring Vincent's complaints of 'rodent defecation' in favor of eyeing that perfect ass now in the air and the way Vincent's back arched violently to avoid touching the bottom of the car. He imagined all of the things he could do to the man right now, and wondered what the dark haired beauty would think if he knew. He watched as Vincent's thighs parted as he presumably strained further to reach for the key. A key that, in all honestly, could go to _anything_ for all Cid knew. The car Vincent was beneath had been Cid's first vehicle, and he had lost the original keys sometime back in '66. He'd been starting it with a screwdriver since he was 18.

He continued to watch Vincent's tight ass, just imagining approaching the gunman, and grabbing ahold of those thin and entirely fuckable hips. He imagined peeling down those delightfully tight pants, and beholding the vision of that tight, pink hole before sliding the head of his aching his cock into it. He imagined the way Vincent would moan, and push back against him, writhing and begging him for more and more. He imagined the way Vincent's eyes would look as he stared up at him, those lips parted as ragged breath fought to get past.

"Cid?"  
The blond jolted violently, too caught up in his own fantasies to notice that Vincent was leaned casually against the side of his old Chevy.  
"I got it."

Cid's head cocked to the side.  
"Got what?"

Vincent's head dropped slightly and he help out the key for Cid to see.  
"Oh, right!" The blond accepted the key, and eyed it in faux-scrutiny.  
"Oh…This ain't the right one. This goes to the tractor. The key I'm looking for must be up there."

Vincent looked up to where the pilot was pointing, eyeing the rickety lookin' shelf that was certainly out of reach. Cid dragged a stool over to the dark haired man and looked at him expectantly.  
"I can't be standin on it. It'll break with my weight. Don't worry, Vince. If ya fall, I'll catch ya."

Vincent wondered if it was too late to call upon Chaos. He saw the bulge in Cid's work pants. Surely Chaos would be less painful than Cid's poorly concealed sexual harassment.


End file.
